Easy Like Sunday Morning
by JerBearThompson
Summary: This captain is a fragile man. Just care for him, and let him know that he’s loved. Note: Not your typical “Sunday Morning” fic.


**Title: **Easy Like Sunday Morning  
**Author: **JerBearThompson  
**Rating: **PG  
**Spoilers: **Very slight reference to Face of Boe.  
**Characters: **Ianto, Jack  
**Summary: **_This captain is a fragile man. Just care for him, and let him know that he's loved._  
**Disclaimer: **In the beginning, there was RTD. He said to the BBC, _Let there be Torchwood_, and it was done.  
**Note: **Not your typical "Sunday Morning" fic.

**A/N: **I wrote this during my Study period at school. A bittersweet idea that came to me while listening to the song(you'll never guess what), _Easy like Sunday morning_ by Lionel Richie. This is fluff, but not overly so. I hope it makes sense.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

A dark figure watched the two men with careful accuracy. It was late - very late for his charges, only middle of the day where he had travelled from.

He stiffened as there was movement on the bed, and he instinctively took a step back, further into the shadows.

One of the men, the captain, he knew, seemed to be increasingly uneasy, and the other, the Welshman, had automatically turned in his sleep to drape an arm across his chest, pulling him into a tight grip until the discomfort simmered.

It stunned the man as he watched that these two could comfort each other even without being aware of it, even in their sleep. He knew it was a rough part of the captain's life, but only when his dreams were plagued by nightmares did he show it. He knew the captain took for granted just how much his partner carried him through these times.

But he, standing in the shadows, he knew. He knew exactly what the Welshman had done for the captain, and he knew just how much the elder sleeping man was unworthy of it. In time, the captain would come to realise that.

When silence again fell, after a heavy sigh from one of the men – he knew not which – and stillness once again fell over the room, he risked a few steps forward, gallantry and longing making him step far too close to the right side of the bed.

'Ianto Jones,' his breath ghosted over the face's soft features. 'Beautiful Ianto Jones.'

He wanted to touch him. To run his fingers over that smooth skin, over long-lashed eyelids, over high-cut cheeks, along a hard jaw. He wanted to push his fingers into that mass of thick, curly hair, and then he wanted to trace his hands down the elegant neck, following the spine's bony ridges down and further down still.

He wanted to touch, he wanted to _feel_. But most of all... most of all he wanted to kiss. Anywhere, and everywhere. He wanted to feel warm skin on his lips.

All this, he wanted. But he did not do.

'You look after him,' he said instead. 'This captain is a fragile man. Just care for him, and let him know that he's loved. Do that for him, and he'll never forget you. I guarantee it.'

_Want it, want it, want it_. He wanted so badly to rest his forehead against the stretch of pale skin the Welshman's back presented to him. He wanted it so badly he thought he was going to pass out.

'You're an angel. Beautiful, kind, caring, gorgeous man. Ianto Jones, you are my angel.'

The man stood up, and left. He did not look back.

--

When Jack woke up, Ianto was sitting up in bed and he was sprawled across the Welshman's lap, no doubt having just been snoring softly into his stomach. He wasn't sure if Ianto had somehow manhandled him into that position or whether it's something he managed to do of his own accord, but either way it was comfortable and he didn't want to move so he slid his hands up and around Ianto's waist and held on tight.

'Morning,' said a thick-accented voice as soft fingers tangled themselves in his hair.

Jack sighed, or huffed, or… did _something_ that involved expelling a heavy breath of air in a blissful fashion. 'I'm on your lap,' he said tiredly, by way of reply.

He didn't need to look up to know the young man was smiling. 'Mm,' Ianto hummed his agreement, his fingers pressing lightly over Jack's scalp, 'You are. I got sick of you continually trying to burrow your face into the side of my leg.'

Ah. It was Ianto's doing then.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Jack's head still pressed up against Ianto's stomach, the Welshman's fingers sliding down Jack's neck to dance across his bare shoulder blades. Jack sighed in content as he blinked blearily at the light that the morning had brought.

'You're up early,' he commented idly to Ianto after a while. He was nearly always the first one awake, even if it was Ianto who was usually the first one to drag himself from the bed.

'I didn't sleep to well,' Ianto said lightly, like it was a frequent conversational topic – which is wasn't. 'I felt… I don't know, I just felt like someone was watching me.'

'I'm watching you!' Jack shifted so he was staring up at Ianto from the man's lap, smiling far too brightly for someone who had just woken up.

'Not you, Jack.' Ianto chuckled and ruffled a hand over Jack's face, eliciting an irritable huff.

'You think someone's stalking you then?'

'No, I… It's strange. Just a feeling, is all. But I feel safe like… like I know this person, trust them.' Ianto realised how pathetic he was sounding an almost added a "never mind, it's stupid" on the end but he knew that would sound childish and Jack would tell him as much. They shared a lot more these days, and nothing they ever shared was stupid. If it mattered to one, it mattered to the other.

'I honestly don't know what so say, Ianto,' Jack said wearily, if not somewhat apologetically as he eased himself up into a sitting position and rested his head atop Ianto's shoulder. 'But you don't feel threatened so it can't be something bad, surely.'

It was a lie. Out of place things that felt good were almost certainly bad when it involved alien origin, they'd recently experienced that far too much - much to the devastation of the family members who truly believed they were doing the right thing for their passed on loved ones. But Jack _felt_ that Ianto was safe, and he knew that as long as he was here, sleeping beside him, the man would be safe. So he felt no need to worry him further.

'Yeah…' Ianto murmured, before sobering up and repeating louder, 'Yeah.' He pressed a quick kiss to Jack's thick, dark hair and pushed the captain off his shoulder. 'Nothing a hot shower won't sort out.'

'Ianto,' Jack moaned, dragging out the vowels as he threw himself forward and hitched his hands around the Welshman's waist, pulling him back atop the bed and against his chest rather dramatically.

'Let's stay here,' he whispered into the younger man's ear, hot breath ghosting over the side of Ianto's face. 'Let's not go in to work today and just stay in bed all day.'

Ianto gave an undignified snort that would have been a little unattractive to anyone but Jack, who absolutely loved it, and hugged Ianto a little tighter in lieu of this.

'Jack, I really don't think I'm up to a whole morning of-'

'No, not that,' Jack cut him off quickly. 'Talking and laughing and watching movies and not having to change out of our boxers.'

Ianto was a briefs man; he said it was all about shape, rather than form. But in winter, when it got cold at night, Jack had convinced him to wear boxers to bed. "Convinced" meaning Jack had bought him a pair every week until Ianto couldn't stand to see any more go to waste and caved in. Ianto had started off wearing shirts to bed in winter, also, but thanks to Jack it always ended up rucked high around his shoulders by the time he woke up in the morning so he gave that up, too.

'That'd be only too easy,' Ianto sighed, leaning his head back against Jack's shoulder.

The captain hummed the beginnings of a tune. '_That's why I'm easy_,' he sang softly. '_I'm easy like Sunday morning_.'

Ianto laughed and tugged at Jack's hands, trying to loosen the grip around his waist. 'Just one Sunday I'd like to go a whole morning without you singing Lionel Richie to me.'

'You love it,' Jack grinned against the back of Ianto's neck, and the younger man could actually feel teeth against his nape.

'I'm so glad you've familiarised yourself with what I do and do not love,' Ianto deadpanned. Then, reaching his hand around to give a sharp slap to Jack's back, 'Alright, let go. I've really got to take a shower now.'

'No one takes me seriously anymore,' Jack whined, but complied all the same. 'I meant it too, I was fully prepared to call up Owen and tell him to man the Hub.'

'Poor thing, ask me again next Sunday,' Ianto sympathised, dropping his boxers as he tread into the en-suite bathroom. Jack grinned at the view and trotted after him, settling himself beside the sink as the water started up and Ianto's figure was gradually obscured by steam on the glass shower door.

'It's _Sunday_,' Jack tried bargaining once more. When no retort was forthcoming, he continued. 'Can we at least get breakfast? Somewhere nice, with Danishes and cream.'

A hand rubbed a circle free from the steam and Ianto's face peered through it. 'Only if we walk. The SUV's already at the Hub and if we get cream then I'm going to need exercise to work it off.'

'Work what off? Your body is fantastic,' Jack grinned around the toothbrush he had just slid into his mouth. Ianto made no comment.

Shortly after Jack had spat the frothy toothpaste into the sink and washed out his mouth, the sound of water hitting the tile floor stopped and Jack was met with a face full of steam as the shower door opened.

Jack saw the hand reaching out blindly for a rich blue towel but he pushed it away and took it himself, mussing it over Ianto's hair before wrapping the man securely in his towel-clad arms.

'We've talked about this, Jack,' Ianto reprimanded darkly. 'It's undignifying.'

'But you're so adorable!' The captain laughed in a higher pitch than usual before dropping his own pants and stepping into the shower. Through the thick fog on the glass Jack could just make out the outline of Ianto picking at his hair in the mirror, and brushing his own teeth. And thus the bathroom process was repeated.

After that, silence stretched out, filled only by the rustling of clothes as they were pulled on and little breathless laughs as knowing smiles were exchanged.

'Danishes, then?' Ianto asked at the front door.

Jack finished pulling his gloves on and moved toward the young man who was holding out his greatcoat for him, waiting to slip it dutifully over his shoulders.

'We'll walk,' Jack nodded, as the familiar weighed settled over his shoulders. 'Just because I love to make you happy.'

Ianto scoffed as he exited the house, the morning's worry already forgotten.

--

'Dai. Dai!'

'What is it, Bo?'

Jack grinned as he quickly locked the door to his hostel and chased after the other man.

It took him a while to catch up, heavy boots crunching through the snow as the orange sky's bright twin suns shone down on him.

'Wait up!' Jack was breathless by the time he reached the other man, almost tackling him with a bear hug. 'It's snowing,' he murmured happily into the side of the man's face. Dai turned to regard him, his blue eyebrows shooting up into his equally blue hair.

'Is it? I don't feel snow…'

'Here,' Jack took his hand. 'Touch,' he plucked the glove from Dai's hand and pressed the uncovered skin to the snow covered ground. The blue haired man's unseeing eyes widened and his face lit up. 'I didn't feel it, I thought it was gravel.'

'It's the first day of Cold,' Jack told him.

'But it was presumed Luke for another week!' Dai exclaimed in protest. It had been a few centuries since they had simplified the seasons down to just Cold, (Winter), Hot (Summer) and Warm (Spring). Autumn had begun as "Cool", then changed to "Lukewarm" from whence it was shorted to simply "Luke".

'The sky has turned orange, orange means snow! I'm telling you, there is not a single patch of purple sky left!'

'Oh I remember the orange,' Dai smiled, his milky white-washed green eyes turning to the heavens. He turned back to Jack, 'Minister will not be pleased.'

'Minister does not worry me. His time is over, time for a new one I say! Are you voting in the election today?'

'I can't,' Dai held his hands out in front of him, and Jack noticed how they trembled slightly. Two fingers on the right and one on the left were missing. 'I cannot read NewBrail anymore, and that's taking into consideration that they even give that option. They may just leave it as text like last year, in which case I have no means of reading it by.'

'I'll come with you,' Jack threaded his fingers as best he could through the younger man's. 'I'll go first, I'll tell you where to place the mark.'

Dai smiled appreciatively. 'You make it sound so easy.'

'I'm an easy person,' Jack grinned, pressing his face close so Dai could feel his smile. 'I'm easy like Sunday morning.'

And he stopped.

Everything around him stopped, and Jack felt frozen in time. He couldn't see anything, couldn't _feel_ anything, only remember. Remember something he thought he had forgotten long ago. A memory, of a large bed, a warm body squirming in his arms, trying to escape. A feeling of love, from himself, from this person he was holding. Those words, that song, whispered…

_Easy like Sunday morning…_

And then Jack remembered something else. Before that, a conversation.

_I just felt like someone was watching me._

It hadn't happened again - the feeling of being watched - and they had thought no more of it after that day. But now Jack remembered. He remembered that face, that voice. He remembered that man. Ianto Jones.

_I feel safe… like I know this person, trust them._

It was him. Jack felt his breath hitch in his throat as he came to this realisation, his chest pounding. It was _him_. Someone had been watching, for just one night. Someone Ianto knew, trusted, felt safe around, but could not see.

_Just a feeling, is all._

He could do it, he could find a way to go back, watch over him for just one night. It would be so easy. It wouldn't cause a paradox, wouldn't change a thing. Because _it had already happened_. And it was _him_.

'Bo?'

There was a tapping on the side of his face, and Jack wearily brought his consciousness back to the future.

'You've been silent, are you not listening? Bo, I know you're there, I can feel you. Feel you breathing. Bo!'

'Dai,' Jack reached up and grasped Dai's hand tightly.

'Something had happened,' Dai told him, and Jack could barely nod in reply. He felt stiff with excitement, hope. It was going to happen, it had already happened, and Ianto would be none the wiser. But Jack would get to see him again, just watch him, and remember. He would be able to love for one more night.

'Dai, I told you about a man once.'

'You told me about many.'

Jack was staring blankly into the distance, but he didn't have to turn to know that Dai was smirking.

'Ianto, Ianto Jones.'

He felt Dai shuffle closer, and felt the younger man's nod against his shoulder.

'You remember,'

'Everything,' Jack breathed, and then smiled. 'Dai, I need your help.'

'You can't, Bo,'

'I can, I have to, it's already happened, I _remember_. I'm going to see him again. I'm going to see Ianto Jones.'

--

'Ianto. Ianto, wait!'

Jack hastily turned the key in the lock and jogged to catch up to the young man.

'Jack, it's snowing!' The Welshman called with a laugh. Jack loved that sound, a laugh so childish and carefree, like everything in the world was just perfect.

'It's not winter yet!' Jack protested, catching up and enveloping the younger man in a crushing embrace from behind. 'Not for another week.'

Ianto shook his head against Jack's chest, enjoying the warmth of the other man pressed against his back, arms wrapped tightly around him. 'Look at the sky, it's grey, and it's snowing. It's winter.'

'If you say so,' Jack buried his cold nose into one of Ianto's rosy flushed cheeks. The younger man tried to squirm away from the cold but Jack held him tight. 'You know, in thousands of years,' Jack purposefully puffed out hot air across Ianto's face. The Welshman hummed in content. 'On a little planet up there somewhere,' Jack pointed up into the sky. 'There's a place called the Boeshane Peninsula. I was born there, and maybe in a few hundred or so years I might go back. It's like here, a lot like here actually. And the sky… in Autumn the sky is purple, but then when Winter rolls around it becomes orange! So we always know what season it is.'

'You miss it, don't you?' Ianto asked sadly.

'Sometimes,' Jack said carefully. 'I used to, a lot, but now… I don't know. I like it here. Earth with its blue skies and rainy clouds and quaint little Welshmen,' at this point he snuggled his face against Ianto's, laughing into his chin as the younger man tried to cringe away from him.'

'You're like on over-affectionate cat,' Ianto muttered, using his gloved fingers to try and pry Jack's face away from his. 'And 'm not quaint,' the young man protested.

'Oh so you don't like to fit everything into neat little categories then?'

Ianto shrugged, with effort for they both knew it was a lie. 'I'm easy.'

'Of course you are,' Jack took hold of Ianto's gloved hands and raised them to his lips, kissing each palm lightly. 'You're easy like Sunday morning.'

--

From a distance, Bo watched the couple with sad eyes. It was remarkably close to what he had experienced with Dai just two days earlier, his time. Except this Bo - this _Jack_, he should say - was happier. This captain wasn't putting on a brave front, faking happiness for the sake of the people around him. This man wasn't tired, and through with humanity. He wasn't carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, instead he was sharing it with a tall, suited Welshman.

A Welshman Bo would never forget. Like he would never forget any of his past lovers, partners. But this one in particular, this _Ianto Jones_. Never would he forget him.

The man who had shared his pain, helped him carry his unwanted burdens. Never would he forget this man, who had saved him.

Bo sighed, and turned away from the sight. Perhaps one day, in another thirty thousand odd years, he would remember another old song, remember another small thing Ianto had said. And when that time came, he would again come back to visit. One last day, watching his saviour with longing eyes.

And every day that he was destined to suffer through, would eventually pass. And he would be glad, because it was bringing him one day closer to a time when he could come back and watch. This man was what kept him going, what kept him strong in life. And it was a simple concept, it was so easy.

It was easy like Sunday morning.


End file.
